


Inquisition: Vignettes

by PeterPancake



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dragon Age: Inquisition Spoilers, Gay and Confused Boy, How Do I Tag, I'm Bad At Tagging, Inquisitor & Dorian Pavus Friendship, Inquisitor Backstory, Iron Bull is a beautiful Boy, M/M, Sassy Inquisitor, cute shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 11:09:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14211852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeterPancake/pseuds/PeterPancake
Summary: There are moments in-between the big moments, the fantastic ones, the great battles and speeches, that tell others who we are. Anat Lavellan didn't know who he wanted to be.





	1. Vignette: Reading

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, hello, this is a series of short stories involving my Inquisitor, Anat Lavellan, because I love him and I imagined this beautiful, complex story for him. It's in vignette form until I can write enough to organize it in some fashion and actually tell the story. Some bits may be confusing, which I will work on, but I hope you enjoy these little moments in his life as much as I do.
> 
> -Pancake

 

The worst had come. 

 Well, not the worst. 

 Anat sat on his bed, listening to the fire crackling in the hearth, with a sheaf of notes in front of him. Josephine had handed them to him this afternoon, asking him to take note of the names and titles of several Fereldan dignitaries who may visit Haven in the near future. 

Staring at the notes in front of him was useless. It was like speaking to a goat and expecting it to answer in kind.  

Silently Anat calculated; who could he trust to help him read these? The advisors were out—there was no way he could lose that much face in front of any of them. Similarly he couldn’t ask Cassandra or Varric; Cassandra would be scandalized, and Varric would laugh, and then th rumors would start. Sera wouldn’t be any help, and Vivienne would probably lord it over him for the rest of his life. 

A decision made, Anat gathered the papers into a leather folder and stole out into the night. Haven was unusually still, all of the hustle and bustle of the day long over with. A few sets of steps later, and Anat was outside of Solas’ quarters. He knocked quietly, both hoping and not hoping that the apostate was awake. To his surprise, a response came immediately from within, and he entered.  

“It is quite late, lethallan. Can I help you with something?” Solas appeared to be examining an old, withered text by candlelight, seated cross-legged on the middle of his floor. 

“Yes, well, I have a favor to ask of you.” Anat said

“How can I be of service?” 

“I need your help with these,” Anat gestured to the papers in his hand. “Josephine wanted me to review them but I can’t ...I can’t read them.”

Solas took the folder with a frown. “That is odd, I have never known the ambassador to have illegible penmanship.” He opened the papers, blinked once, twice. 

“I see. You...cannot read. At all.”

Anat felt blood rushing to his cheeks. “Guess I just wasn’t made out for a scholar’s life,” he said flippantly. “Anyway, if you just read them to me, I can figure out what she needs me to know. It shouldn’t take more than half a bell’s time, if you don’t mind. I wouldn’t want to impose.”

Solas gave him a sharp look. “Absolutely not.” 

Anat froze. 

“I assume you do not wish others to know of your lack. Hence, you will meet with me daily, at this time, and I will teach you to read. This is absolutely unacceptable. I cannot believe that your Keeper did not teach you to read as a child.”

“She...” a thousand thoughts flew through Anat’s head. He wanted to be angry at Solas for assuming the worst of Isthamoriel. But Solas didn’t know, how could he? “I...ran away from lessons a lot. None of them could catch me. I’d always assumed I’d just be a hunter and it wouldn’t matter; you know?”

For a moment, Anat was certain he’d seen through his half-truth and would start asking more any moment. “I, I really don’t need you to spend your time teaching me, honestly, I’ll muddle through, I’ll be fine.”

“Stop. Talking.” Solas stood more quickly than Anat had ever seen and began to pull out books and paper from his traveling desk. “Sit. We will begin immediately. Reading and writing in Common Thedosian. This is the first rune.” He sat and sketched out a mark on a piece of slate. “It makes the sound ‘aah,’” 

Properly rebuffed, Anat sat and listened, copied the marks when prompted. He should probably put off that trip to Redcliffe farms for a few weeks or so...


	2. Vignette: About Dorian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after "Of Somewhat Fallen Fortune"

There had always been a strange since of duplicity in opinion in his mind about Dorian. There was something undeniably attractive about him, and not just in the sexual sense. Ever since that strange future they had shared in Redcliffe, and the stranger adventures since, Dorian had proven to be a formidable ally, and a staunch companion. He loved spending his days in skyhold’s library, which was still absolutely incomprehensible to Anat (in more than one way). All the same, seeing him so absorbed in research gave the man a gentle appearance that was hard not to find endearing. His sharp wit matched Anat’s own, and they spent many hours on the road making jokes back and forth.

They flirted, too. For a half moment, Anat considered making a bigger step towards him, hoping for something amusing, even fun, but then..

“You know, before I came South, I hardly ever thought about it.”

Anat couldn’t bring himself to even look at Dorian for a week. It wasn’t just about the plight of his kin, though he felt that sharply. Slavery...was normal to Dorian. For a time, every time he glanced him across the hall, Anat could hear a woman’s screams and the sound of fabric ripping across an empty grass plain, and...

Well, Khim seemed to appreciate his raw fury those days, even if it meant he missed a few more vials than he should have in the training yard.

The feeling passed. Dorian never apologized, Anat never asked again. It was a truce of forgetting, mutually agreed upon by unspoken decree.

——

“What do you mean, you’ve only just learned how to _read_?” Dorian squawked.

“Will you _shut up_?” Anat hissed, “Leliana has ears to the ground everywhere, and I’m barely fooling her as it is.”

“But my GOD man, that is _astounding_!” Dorian replied, with an equal drop in volume. “You’re a man with more political power than most people would think sane or necessary; and you’re telling me you’ve only become literate in the past _year_?”

“Mythal’s mercy, Dorian, I didn’t expect you to make such a fuss about it, and I’m regretting saying anything _more and more by the second_.”

“My apologies, friend. I’m sure the shock of it all will leave me after a few bottles of that lovely _la fée verte_ you were gifted from that old Dowager...”

“Perhaps instead we can get back to the topic at hand, Pavus.”

“Dear, dear, point taken.”

Anat, who could already feel the mild blush receding from his face, tossed the envelope across the table. “As I was saying...I can’t make head or tails of this. I know it’s written in Trade, not Orlesian, but I can barely understand it. It’s all...loopy. Normally I ask Solas to help me with things like this, but...”

“Yes, yes, after the Exalted Plains...I do hope he returns soon, one misses his puttering and scheming about the rotunda.”

Anat chuckled. “I have a running bet with Varric actually...he says he’ll snap out of the gloom within a week, but I don’t know if we’ll see him again before the moon goes from dark to dark. If he comes back at all.”

Dorian, perhaps noticing the troubled look of Anat’s face, gave him a short, perfunctory pat on the hand. “He did say that he would be back. He’s probably dreaming about pretty Fade girls and the next time he can deliver a sly insult to the Madame de Fer at this very moment. That always cheers him. In any case...” Dorian fingered the letter, opening it to examine the writing. He squinted, leaned in closer, then reeled back, choking. “Who on Thedas..this REEKS of the most pompous, frilly perfume...”

“It was worse earlier. Josephine said it was from Minister Bellise...we had a conversation regarding the Lady Ambassador’s family situation.”

“I wonder who her perfumer is, for such a potent scent...in any case, I see your issue. It’s in cursive. Formal lettering, only used in Orlais anymore. Most nobility consider it too extravagance for common parlance. And it reads...or dear.”

“Oh, no.” Anat could feel the blush returning.

“ ‘To my most treasured acquaintance, Inquisitor Lavellan; _tender greetings_ to you. I trust that the unsavory business regarding the DuParaquette’s lordship is dealt with, and that you have mastered the situation just as surely as you _mastered me_ at the Marquis’s féte. Verily, I find myself in _desire of your company_ once more. It is my hope that you will _submit_ to attending a more _intimate_ gathering at my summer estate in Val Chevin as the winter months come closer. Should you find yourself in need of...assistance to find the spare time needed to attend me, I would be most willing to part with some of my retainers so that you may _sheathe yourself_ in my home.’ And it continues. My, my, my, and here we all thought the Inquisitor was as pure as the white snow upon the Frostbacks.”

Anat thought his head might explode, so much blood was in his face at the moment.

“Shall I continue? Eventually she switches from innuendo to something altogether more perverse. I should tell Varric he has competition in the romance writing field..”

“Please don’t. _**Fenhedis**_ , no wonder Leliana looked at me that way when she handed me the letter.”

“Would you like me to compose a reply for you? I dare say that I could compare a budding romance to her bountiful breasts quite well, even if my experience in the field is clearly not as flushed-out as yours...” Dorian already had a pen in hand and was looking at Anat with a mirthful, wicked stare.

“I have never been so glad that Solas is away from Skyhold.” Anat slumped fully forward, too embarrassed to even try to save more face. “All the gods give me strength, I didn’t mean for it to go so far. If I weren’t trying to help Josephine...I didn’t even think it COULD be that bad. I would rather _sheathe_ myself in a gurgut than repeat the experience.”

“Well, now you know not to repeat that experience. I say, I do hope that wasn’t your first dalliance.” Dorian smirked again, and put on his Most Condescending face. “If it was, well, I would most gladly sacrifice my own body to give you the cherishing I’m sure you deserve.”

Anat gave Dorian a long-suffering look, which Dorian returned with a straight face.

Finally, Anat cocked an eyebrow, and Dorian snorted, ruining the ruse.

Anat leaned forward, grabbed the letter, and flung it expertly into the fire, sending up a plume of jasmine and patchouli-scented smoke. “Thank Mythal, no, the minister wasn't my first “dalliance.” If we’re talking body count, though, I think we will need to pay a visit to _la fée verte_.”

“Oho!” Dorian sprung to his feet. “An excuse to get pleasantly drunk and share bawdry tales; one of my favorite pastimes.”

“Only for you, Dorian...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never romanced Dorian in my game, but I always imagined Anat and him getting along like a house on fire (with some restrictions...) Anat has some stuff he needs to work through, Dorian is way too high-and-mighty, but absinthe brings everyone together.


End file.
